Like beetles that fall in hot ashes
Ye shall perish, ye singers and drummer.
But lo! in the lightnings and wind-storms
Your beings shall join the beloved.
Your breaths, too, shall strengthen the warrior
And give power to the voice of the warrior,
Bringing peace to the Seed-priests and women.
And ye shall be foremost forever
Of our Chosen, the Priests of the Bow.
Lo! The people shall see that we dread not